


If it be your will

by crowsoup



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Rating will go up, Secrets, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a lot of guessing and implied information, possibly dark past, revealing of mutual pining, truth telling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowsoup/pseuds/crowsoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a man with a lot of secrets, so is Eggsy.<br/>Or a story where the two had a bet, tried to guess a (very obvious) secret of each other but ended up telling far more personal secrets than originally planned. During the time, they dined, wined, dated, went through all the proper procedures and many other unorthodox procedures. Smut is guaranteed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If it be your will

　　Story began after the end.

　　After the church event, it took Harry two months in coma and four months in rehabilitation center to admit his defeat -- he could never be as physically competent as before. He stopped torturing man-shaped aiming boards in the shooting range and finally accepted Merlin's proposal and endorsements from existing Kingsman agents. He became Arthur.

　　On the day he accepted the crown, Eggsy was made Galahad. They held the ceremony in the afternoon and stretched it well into the night. After all the others went home, the two continued their own celebration back in Harry's apartment. Nothing was more meaningless than titles and ranks, but receiving them still sent one over the moon. The night saw complacency on their face and a bit too much wine and brandy down their throat. Alcohol scraped their stomachs, digging up swallowed secrets and sent them up, burning on the way out, more scorching than fine whiskey.

　　There were no more than a few secrets between them. They had known each other for almost 18 years, but less than six months of it was spent together. Their shared story was hardly complicated. 

　　None of the two can remember that night clear enough. Did he started the conversation by talking about the mini-massacre, or by confessing that he spent the previous seventeen years silently watching Eggsy grow up from a far? He couldn't tell. But Harry still remembers how the apology stuck in his throat, blocking the way of some other deeper, darker secrets. He told Eggsy about his attention, his care, his anger, his control and the lack of it, his longing. They were more than merry by that time, the world surrounding them was in a numbing joy. But his mind was still cold and hard, so sharp that nothing could stop him.

　　He told his young protégé:”I killed everyone in the church. I was petrified when I came back to myself. Not because of the killing, I am fine with that. I know it's not my fault. That was nothing more than an unfortunate combination of my skill and Valentine's nefarious plan. Looking back, Arthur's fingerprint may also be on it. So my boy, I am anything but a guilty man. They knew nothing other than hatred and prejudice, I can't even find it regretful."

　　"That...that's OK, Harry. That's not your fault to begin with. “His young man said, slurring due to shock and alcohol.

　　Harry stared at him, as if it would nail his words deep into his protégé’s mind. "Yes, I know. So I am not sorry, not in the least."

　　"That's it. You are sensible."

　　"Sensible. Of course, Eggsy."He laughed a bit: “Don’t listen to that nonsense. Sensible is not a good trait if too strong. I have killed, a lot, Eggsy. They were civilians, but I am not sorry. I shouldn't be. I really shouldn't be...... But a common man would be sorry, Eggsy. Because people ought to feel uncomfortable after killing a person, no matter what he was facing, no matter how justified, no matter how emergent. For that he had killed one of his own kind. The more he kills, the further he is away from his flock. One day he wouldn't feel anything when killing a man. He becomes so far away from the commons, so far that he no longer consider himself one of their kind......."

　　"You called my name."Eggsy said: “Many times just now."

　　"It's a good name. It makes one happy when calling it."

　　"Well......"Eggsy muttered, his tip of ears turning just a shade of pink. He cleared his throat and asked: “You mean you are lonely?"

　　"Close enough, my boy. You are no longer one of them......then you have only your colleagues in Kingsman as your own kind. This is unavoidable. But we are all spies, Eggsy. Lying is what we pride ourselves in the most, sincerity, the least."

　　"You are sincere to me."Eggsy argued, eyes glittering. He looked just like Harry from 30 years ago, with considerable differences. Harry didn't have a lot of photographs back then, but he remembered how he looked in Eggsy's age. He had crazy curling hair, "looks like an innocent rich boy, so sweet that guarantees sexual assault from the priest if you attended the local choir", according to Merlin. 

　　That's why his first honeypot was with a catholic priest. Merlin is such an ass.

　　But Eggsy is different. He's young, candid, as if his whole heart is lied plain under the daylight. Even in the direst, grimmest situations, even when he was wearing second-hand rubbish and full of steams that was desperate to find a way out, any way out, he still seemed so honest. Harry couldn't find any deep-lying grudge and gloom on Eggsy when he saw the young man outside of that police station. Eggsy was confused, battered by life, yet Harry felt he can transform with just the right nudge, that he was a pearl in a mire and needed only a good wash. 

　　Harry wanted to be the one who helped clean him.

　　"Yes, Eggsy. I can't deny that. You worth my sincerity."

　　Eggsy's eyes were gleaming, sparkling, smiling. "That's it. You be frank with me, and me you. None other matters."

　　Harry couldn't help but laugh, nicely, but it was still a laugh. He wanted to remind Eggsy of his mother and sister, that Eggsy needed a lot more than Harry, an old man. He needs Roxanne Morton, to begin with. But those drunken words, though slurring a bit, was still genuine. He had saw his fair share of lie and told no less, so he knew Eggsy meant every word of it. 

　　"No, Eggsy." He said tenderly:”I keeps secrets from you, many of them. I am not forthcoming, even with you. That is the problem. Once you......"

　　He wanted to finish his lecture. He wanted to tell Eggsy how lonely their path will be, how dangerous it will always be. The path is one full of thistles and thorns, one only meant for lone wolves and would slowly drive them mad. But Eggsy went before him and intercepted.

　　"Then tell me."

　　"Hmm?"

　　"You said you didn't tell me all the secrets, then tell me. Tell me all of it and don't lie to me again, then it would be OK."

　　"Why would I tell you my secrets?"

　　"Because I have mine."

　　Harry eyed him suspiciously. 

　　Lights in the study buried half of Eggsys face in deep shadows. Suddenly, Harry saw a rush of power on his sculptural face, boyish and sturdy. Eggsy was sitting in the light of the lamp, in that same armchair when he first came and asked about gentlemen and plebs, in the first suit Harry made for him. His hair was glued and combed, revealing the brow. Light shined on his Adam’s apple, bringing out the mole at the hollow of his neck, skin golden. He was looking Harry in the eyes.

　　Harry had a sudden peculiar feeling that the one in front of him was not Eggsy Unwin, but Galahad. Eggsy was too relaxed and too casual for that circumstance.

　　Young Galahad winked. "You won't lose anything."

　　His eyes. His lashes. His provocative smile. His naughty winks. Harry thought: He winks quite a lot.

　　"Are there anything about you I don't know?" Harry hummed, waving off his stray thoughts. His secret was dangerously dangling on the tip of his tongue.

　　"This one, you definitely don't know." Eggsy said.

　　He sounded so composed. He was nothing like a drunken man, but a lot like a gambler, or a banker with baits in his hand. A dealer at the table, a pretty young thing with a full set of cards in his hand and a bunch of sneaky plots in his head. Any other man would find it offending, but Harry found it immensely entertaining. Maybe even interested, indecently so.

　　Blame it on the alcohol--or the secrets-- Harry swirled what was left in his glass. He felt the boy's intense gaze, as strong as back in the Black prince, when he finished his pint of Guinness.

　　He glanced up. Eggsy was flushing, stars in his eyes, smiling. A stark contrast to that confused young man in the pub, full of fear.

　　"Want to bet?" Harry asked.

　　

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading. The fic is moving in a painfully slow pace, I am aware of that. It is self beta-ed and not brit-picked. In fact, it is a self-translation of my hartwin fic, which is originally written in Chinese. English is not my A language, so if you spot any thing wrong, feel free to tell me! I will be very grateful. Update would be no more than once a week, though I will try my best to make it weekly. But it takes time, because I have to write the Chinese version first and then translate it. Sorry about that.  
> I live on comments! Please tell me what you think of this fic. Pace, language, character building, anything. :)  
> Thanks! Hope you enjoyed it!


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